


Not the Jedi Way

by Pom_Rania



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania
Summary: Five times Maul could have been punched in the face by the spacefamily, and one time somebody chose to not punch him.AU to 'Holocrons of Fate'.





	1. Hera

As soon as Hera set eyes on that red and black horned face that was threatening her crew, it was like she could hear a million voices in her head, all screaming _punch him in the dick!_

So she did.

At least, she tried to. Instead of soft yielding _sensitive_ flesh, her fist impacted on hard metal.

In the time it took for her to withdraw her numbed hand, she had analyzed the situation. Armour – no, not armour, cybernetics that went higher than just his legs. Crotch not a viable target. Torso uncertain, covered by clothing. Face: unprotected, _smug_.

She swung for his face with her uninjured hand.

 _Damn_ that was satisfying!

He stumbled back with blood pouring from his nose. She surged forward to press her advantage.

Flying was her great passion in life. It was when she felt the most free, the most at peace, the most herself. The Rebellion was important, but one day the Empire would be gone and the skies would still be there, and she would fly without worries. It was always her favourite activity.

She was prepared to admit “beating this particular sleemo into unconsciousness” as her second-favourite activity.

Once she was satisfied he wasn’t going to get back up, she stepped back to survey her work. Her hands were bruised and bloody, but his face was worse. It looked like something that belonged in the trash. Which was, after all, entirely accurate.

“Sabine, Zeb, Chopper,” she said into her comm. “A cockroach somehow made its way onto the ship. Help me throw it out the airlock.”


	2. Chopper

Organics were vulnerable, Chopper knew. They were foolish and short-sighted and so easily damaged, and it was every droid’s responsibility to protect their organic subordinates from being destroyed.

All other organics could motivate directly into an incinerator if they interfered with that.

Like all non-crew organics, the intruder’s continued existence had no value greater than zero. It had attacked Chopper’s organics, so its value dropped to negative numbers. It also matched KananJarrus’s insufficient descriptions of the being who had damaged his optics. If that identification was correct, then reaction algorithms would switch from “terminate if convenient” to “terminate if possible without excessive risk”.

Organics were vulnerable, even those who had replaced components with superior inorganic versions. Visual scans indicated that the intruder’s lower appendages would likely conduct electricity. With current relative positioning and concealment, testing that hypothesis was a low-risk endeavour.

Hypothesis confirmed.

The intruder spasmed and toppled over. Before it could initiate self-righting routines, Chopper approached and delivered a further shock, applied with greater precision and intensity, within parameters calculated to non-fatally incapacitate a plurality of humanoids. CaptainHeraSyndulla had expressed a preference for leaving enemies alive if possible, and it could always be destroyed after retrieving any necessary data from it. Chopper did not have data on the intruder’s species, and chose to err in the direction of potential lethality as opposed to escape. Compliance with CaptainHeraSyndulla, and her desires which were not direct orders, came secondary behind ensuring her continued existence. 

If the intruder was able to respond, then striking its face with a manipulator would provoke an involuntary reaction, else it would simply move in the direction of the blow. Therefore the punch served a necessary purpose and was not gratuitous.

It was still enjoyable.


	3. Zeb

Nothing was designed for Lasats any more. Unfortunately, the binders on Zeb had been made to restrain hands of his size.

Fortunately, his feet were still free. 

He had to wait for the right moment. As much as he wanted to shove the red-blade’s face _through_ the nearest wall, if he acted too soon it could be disastrous and he didn’t want to lose another family.

He caught Hera’s gaze and twitched his ears meaningfully. She gave a slight nod, and nudged Sabine with her foot. They would know what to do. And Chopper… Chopper would use whatever advantage he had, as always. 

Zeb had been a trained fighter for longer than anyone else on the crew had even been alive. He didn’t have Jedi reflexes, but he had the training and honour of lost Lasan running through every fibre of his body, and a burning desire to never again let his people down.

The red-blade and his red blade turned away. Zeb shifted his weight, balanced on his hands, and leapt.

His feet gripped the red-blade’s neck, toes covering his nose and mouth. Sabine, who was closest, struck at his arm and pried the blade from his fingers, while Hera and Chopper swiftly dealt with the droids. Zeb swung his upper body around and brought all of his weight and pain and rage bearing down on that red and black head. They both fell to the ground, but only one of them was in control of the situation and it wasn’t the red-blade. 

Some time during the haze of the entirely-justified beatdown, Chopper had cut through their binders and Zeb switched from using feet and knees and elbows to using feet and knees and elbows and hands. It didn’t have the same satisfying _clunk_ to it as a buckethead going down, but it made up for that in every other aspect.

“Zeb! Zeb, I… I think you can stop now.”

The rush of blood in his ears, and the red tinging his vision, gradually receded.

Oh. Huh.

Karabast! He’d dented the wall. It apparently was not possible for him to shove someone’s head through the wall, but he had made a good try of it. There were broken-off pieces of horn embedded in the softer areas, and blood splattered all over the place. He was not looking forward to cleaning it up, but it was his mess so Hera would make him deal with it.

Also, the red-blade was just barely alive, but he didn’t care about that.

“Heh… sorry,” he said.

He punched the battered face one more time for good measure, then let the twitching form slide down to the floor.


	4. Sabine

There were so many things wrong with the situation. Maul was no longer stuck to the ceiling (and didn’t that sound like the premise of a bad joke about Mandalorian politics). Chopper was out of the fight, Zeb was under a crate, and Sabine herself was currently held up by her neck in the immaterial grip of a psychotic zabrak with delusions of grandeur who unfortunately had the power to back it up.

She didn’t want to wait and see how exactly the situation could get even worse.

He pulled her towards him. She had seen Kanan and Ezra do something similar, but this guy had nothing in common with them other than the basics of “male”, “humanoid”, and “lightsaber”.

One of the things she had learned was that you can always use your enemy’s actions against them. In this case, he was bringing her within range.

She reached for his neck just as her breathing was cut off. Her first instinct – _hands to your throat to remove the constriction!_ – was useless and counterproductive. Her second – _knee him in the nuts!_ – was generally appropriate, but not against someone who had droids parts for his lower half. All she could do was hang on, wait for an opportunity, and hope that he ran out of air before she did. 

She couldn’t breathe. There were spots floating in her vision. Was that actually a purple shape coming up behind Maul? And a green one too?

The choking stopped, and she gasped for breath. Large hands replaced hers on Maul’s neck. Zeb had greater arm strength, but what she had was a perfect opportunity to punch Maul in the face.

Jedi were not invulnerable. Kanan and Ezra had come home hurt too many times for her to not realize that, even before Malachor (and she no longer felt her stomach drop every time she saw Kanan’s face, but she would never be okay with it). It therefore also followed that Inquisitors and Sith could be hurt as well, which she was proving with each shattered tooth of her enemy under her gauntlets.


	5. Ezra

How can we destroy the Sith?

The answer, when it came to Ezra, was crystal clear.

_There is a Sith right in front of you._

Well yes, there was Maul, but –

_He has done more than you know, and you would hate him._

There were flashes of images. Killing in battle, yes, that was expected; killing Jedi and Inquisitors, distasteful yet probably self-defence; but – an unarmed woman, just to hurt somebody watching? _Children_? And –

What. No. No no no. No.

_Kanan?!_

Suddenly, things clicked for Ezra. 

That FUCKER!!

The light from the holocron blocked out everything else (not what it would matter to _Kanan_ ). He couldn’t see Maul ( _Kanan_ couldn’t either) but it didn’t matter, he knew exactly where that bastard was.

For whatever reason, Kanan didn’t blame him. Ezra had to stop blaming himself and instead put all the blame directly where it belonged, straight in the middle of that treacherous face. 

Maul was engrossed in looking into the holocrons (Kanan would never be able to look at anything). Ezra edged closer, keeping his rage to a low boil that wouldn’t register as a threat.

His attack, when it came, had no subtlety to it. No Force. Using the Force in anger was of the dark side, but nobody said anything about using your _fists_ in anger. 

Behind his punch were memories of Hera striking the senator and Sabine correcting his hand position and Zeb volunteering to be a practice dummy and Chopper leading Kanan and _Kanan’s eyes_ and the holocrons split apart as he stopped holding his open but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered other than _making him pay_ and the light grew blinding but he didn’t need to see to _punch_ and the concussive force threw them across the room but his hand was still gripping Maul’s collar and his ears were ringing and his knuckles hurt but his heart hurt worse and maybe he would eventually be able to forgive himself but he could never forgive Maul and he had to make sure he could never hurt anyone else ever again and….

Hands were grabbing him, pulling him off of Maul. He almost struck out, before he realized who they were. _Family._ He folded, and let them take him away, from everything. 

“…zra. Ezra, come back to us.”

That was Kanan’s voice.

Ezra cracked an eyelid open and blearily tried to focus on Kanan’s face. His mask was off and scarred eyes were pointed in Ezra’s direction.

“Kanan? Kanan, I…” _I’m sorry_ , but he didn’t know what he was sorry for, and some things he wasn’t sorry for at all, and he felt like a conflicting mess of emotions, but one thing was clear. He wished they could just go back to how things had been before Malachor, but it was impossible. 

He threw himself at Kanan, and felt strong arms wrap around him. He didn’t think he had any tears left but he sobbed regardless, and then the tears came. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t have anything to say.

Footsteps, and whirring. Hera stroked his hair. Sabine held his hand. Zeb lay a hand on his shoulder. Chopper patted his knee.

No matter what, they were there.


	6. Kanan

Emotion, yet peace. 

Caleb was the one who had learned and recited those words. Kanan repeated them to himself, and took them to heart. 

He stood face to face with the man who had blinded him. He wished he could look Maul in the eye, but he couldn’t; among other things, that was what being blind meant. 

He slowly took off his mask, and moved his eyes to where he thought Maul’s gaze would be.

Maul softly laughed. “I see you still bear my mark,” he said. “Do you ever wonder how ugly the scarring is, Master Jedi? That twi'lek you’re so _close_ to, can she even stand looking at you with your face uncovered?”

Emotion, yet peace. 

“And then there’s the _fear_. What does it feel like to wake from a nightmare, open your eyes, and see only darkness? To forever wonder what lies in front of you, and never know if somebody is being truthful in their description? It must be terrifying,” he murmured. 

Ignorance, yet knowledge. 

“I told the truth when I said I never intended to blind you. However, perhaps it is better this way. You will never have to see what my apprentice becomes. You should thank me. I saved you the bother of tearing your own eyes out to avoid it.”

_Passion_ – yet serenity. 

“But you can still hear, Master Jedi. Do you hear what people say about you? The blind warrior, crippled and useless. Even in a crowd of voices that will _never_ have faces, those words must stick out, and come up over and over again.”

Chaos, yet harmony. 

“Useless, and powerless. Once a great ally to your cause, now unable to even find your enemy without help. Tell me, how many people have _died_ because you were unable to see to save them?”

Death, yet the Force.

Kanan thought of what Maul had done. Damaging his eyes, yes; but also trying to corrupt Ezra, invading their home, violating Hera’s mind, threatening and almost killing the crew. He felt the anger in himself; felt it, and released it.

Emotion, yet peace. It had no power over him. 

“Is that all?” Kanan asked. 

He heard Maul shift in the restraints. “What happens now, Master Jedi? How are you going to exact your _revenge_ upon me?”

Turning away from Maul didn’t change Kanan’s awareness. The presence and sounds and smells were still there, but he had been sighted for most of his life and had the habits. 

“‘Revenge is not the Jedi way’,” he quoted from long-ago lessons, and stepped back. 

He felt the start of smug satisfaction coming from the Sith.  
“Ezra,” he called. “With me.” 

He sat down on a crate, and leaned back. His student joined him, curious but obedient. 

He gestured at the others: Hera, willing to do anything for her family; Zeb, who had already lost so much; Sabine, with the Mandalorian appreciation for revenge; and Chopper, who despite everything actually cared. 

“They’re not Jedi.”


End file.
